Ghost Templates

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The winds of October blow in leaves of orange and gold. Now is the time to make Halloween crafts and decorations with the kids. Pull out the boxes of paper, glue, scissors, and string. Then turn on your printer, because for today’s Halloween craft, we’re making ghosts!

Not sure how to draw a ghost? Don’t worry, we’ve got that taken care of. Below are 3 free printables ghost templates. Print them out and hand them to your kids. With a bit of creativity, they’ll be able to make all kinds of neat Halloween crafts. For these templates are a versatile bunch. Read on for a few creative suggestions.

Ghost Templates

First and foremost, here is the ghost template, complete with chubby cartoon face, stark black night background, and an ancient treasure chest that it calls home. If your child wants a ghost coloring page, this printable will surely do the job. This ghastly specter would also be a fitting addition to an Halloween poster for school, or as a Halloween decoration. To open the PDF version of the ghost template, click the image below. The PDF will open in your browser. From there you can save it to your computer or send it to your printer.

Next in our ghost template trio, we have a blank ghost template. Print it out and let your kids draw a face on this faceless phantom. To open the PDF version of this ghost template, click the image below. The PDF will open in your browser. From there you can save it to your computer or send it to your printer.

Last but not least, here we have the ghost template without the background, the treasure, and the ghost face. With this ghost template your kids can draw their own background and ghostly facial expression. You could also cut out the ghost template with scissors, and then stick a Popsicle stick on its back, transforming it into a ghost shadow puppet. To open the PDF version of this picture, click the image below. The PDF will open in your browser. From there you can save it to your computer or send it to your printer.

And finally, below you’ll find a bit of my writing about Halloween. I really enjoy this holiday, for it is quite an absurd celebration, and yet somehow makes sense. In these sentences I tried to capture the feeling of Halloween.

I Remember Halloween
by Tim van de Vall

The full moon rises. A cold wind whispers past your cheek, through your hair, down your spine. In the distance, a raven cries, not unlike the sound of a creaking writing desk. Jet black wings glisten in the night as the scavenger soars, among its sky kin, the beady-eyed bat. Leather wings and ghastly screeches, and then, the eerie patter of tiny feet. The terrified laughter of children, the crunch of dying leaves, and the whole world aching, gasping for life drained by the cold and dwindling days. Autumn, vitality’s solemn final stand. And at October’s end, a macabre celebration, to acknowledge one’s mortality, the inevitable ebb and flow of time. This is the evening to prepare for: All Hallow’s Eve, Halloween!

Halloween, a festival of ghouls and zombies, and all things grim and ghastly. The grim reaper, the vampire, the mummy, the resurrected, animated bones. The darker shades of the universe, that cause the neurons to lock up, only to be processed through cries of fear and laughter. Electrified hearts haunting haunted houses, teenagers eager to feel frightened, an excuse to clasp hands. And as the that last flames of dusk succumb to the realm of Nyx, born of Chaos, an army of decorated children marches out bravely, overcoming fear in a valiant quest for candy treasure.

The three-foot white sheet ghost holds hands with the four-foot latex-faced werewolf. The bloodied surgeon and the mutant turtle sprint from door to door. The boy dressed as Robin walks ahead of his father, who waits by the mailbox, as the tiny human runs up and presses his finger upon the jaundiced door bell.

A anxious eternity passes as the boy waits. The lights are on, a dog yammers, but no footsteps. The television speaks and speaks, and then goes silent. A slow, elderly tread, and a shadow in the glass panels beside the door. An anonymous ancient lady opens wide the door.

“Trickortreat!” The password tumbles from his mouth, efficiently squished together. After all, there’s no time to waste.

“And who are you supposed to be, child?” A routine question, that must be answered to attain the prize.

“I’m Robin, Batman’s sidekick.” Answer the question politely. A means to an end.

“Yes, I can see that. That’s a very nice costume you have. Now, here you are. You may choose three pieces.” The plastic jack-o-lantern filled with Snickers, Nerds, Kit-Kat, Three Musketeers and M&Ms magically makes its way from the end table and hovers in front of the boy. Just three pieces. Ah, but now we have quite a decision to make. Just three pieces? No, that’s quite impossible.

“Can I have four? Please?”

“But all the other children only got three…” The ancient lady is met with a blank stare. What does that have to do with anything?

“Oh…all right, I suppose…you may have four.” The child’s face lights up. His fingers flash like lightning, in and out of the bucket, extracting the Snickers, 2 packs of Nerds, and the fun-size M&Ms.

“Thankyoubye!” In an instant the boy is gone. The door closes, and the ancient lady and the house vanish forever from the universe.

Yes, all are rewarded when they threaten adults with trickery. And those rare few houses without candy are met with gazes of confusion and disappointment. Worse still, of course, are the villainous health-conscious tall ones, who attempt to moralize with bags of carrot sticks. Don’t they know that now isn’t the time for such nonsense?

Now the houses with the lazy elders, who leave a giant bowl with sweets on the doorstep, those are the real prizes. Take only one. But the miniature ghosts and goblins and werewolves don’t adhere to any code of conduct. Open the pillow case, and a thousand bags of chocolate tumble in. A twinge of guilt is felt perhaps, then ignored, then forgotten.

It’s a long night, and a large neighborhood. As the hours pass the costumes grow hot. The masks are stifling, sweaty, the paint dry and cracked. Bladders are full, eyelids are heavy, but the strong toil on. Each house must be hit before the night it up. Pillow cases are filled, emptied, refilled.

And when it’s all over, and it’s back at home, you sit in your Batman pajamas, feet bare, on your knees in the wooden chair, and look at all the loot. It’s yours, all yours. You’ve earned it, and now it is time. To feast. A wrapper is torn. Yes! Chocolate.

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